"That is what I said, human. It is a great honor. You may rejoice." He nods, his lips twitching.

I refrain from rolling my eyes—such an honor!

"Fine. What month would you like?"

Although he still needs work on his delivery, I can sense that him asking for it would be revealing too much of a weakness—that he wants a birthday. Somehow it reminds me of his ridiculous encounter with trendy clothes and the way he'd desperately wanted to fit in but would have never admitted it aloud.

"It is up to you."

"Hmm. What about the third month?"

"I do not like the number three."

"Seven?" I throw out a random number.

"That is Flora." He wrinkles his nose. "I do not care for it."

"One?"

"I am banned from it," he mentions, shaking his head.

"Five," I say.

"They do not care for me," he echoes yet another objection.

I frown. Okay, fine. Ten more options.

"Eight?"

He immediately shakes his head.

"It is an unlucky number."

I give him another three suggestions, which he promptly rejects.

Throwing my hands up in the air, I blow out an annoyed breath. "I give up. Just tell me what month is okay with you."

He licks his lips, his eyes never once leaving mine.

"Ananke is a good month," he adds slowly, uncertainly.

"Okay. Ananke it is then. What about the day?" When he simply stares at me, I add, "What is a good day? Or a lucky day for you?"

He presses his lips together.

"Sa," he answers firmly.

"Sa? What is that?"

"It is a number in my language."

"What number?" I inquire curiously.

He pushes his chin up, for the first time averting his gaze.

"Six," he replies casually.

"Six of Ananke?" I repeat, a little taken aback.

"Yes. Do you have something against it?" he quickly asks, folding his arms across his chest and narrowing his eyes at me.

"No. But we share a birthday now," I point out with a smile.

"Indeed." He nods pensively. "I wager I can give you a better present than you can."

My brows shoot up, my lips trembling with amusement. Oh, Ze. He can never just say something outright, can he?

"Then I shall accept that wager," I chuckle.

He nods to himself. Seconds stretch into minutes as he starts fidgeting in his seat. Eventually, he picks up our bag with supplies. Grabbing a couple of nut bars, he pushes them into my lap.

"Eat," he commands.

I frown at his sudden change in demeanor. But when I don't obey his order, he takes the bar, tears the paper package, and pushes it against my mouth.

"Wha—" I don't even manage to voice my question as he pushes the bar past my lips. I reluctantly bite into it, munching slowly.

"You need your strength. We have walked a long distance today," he says awkwardly.